


Encouragement

by Twisted_Mind



Series: Hales' Finishing School for Traditional Omegas [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Body Modification, Bondage, Coercion, F/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Object Insertion, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Orgasm Control, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Toys, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27055960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: “You know you’ve been sent to me for disciplinary action, yes?”Stiles nods. She knows. She’s only ever sent to him for discipline, which is odd, because she knows other students have been disciplined by Madam Laura, or Derek, or other school staff, but not her.“Do you know why?”
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Hales' Finishing School for Traditional Omegas [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521086
Comments: 28
Kudos: 212





	Encouragement

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is dark. I figure, if you've read this far into the series, you know that, but--just for the record, **this is a dark, creepy one**. If you haven't read the others in the series, this probably won't make much sense. 
> 
> Happy Friday, and happy Kinktober! I'm hoping to have something else to post, in a very different vein, for you next week!

She’s been at _Hale’s Finishing School_ for two and a half years now, which means she knew skipping the fucking banquet was likely to cost her. She knows how things work around here by now. But her second-form graduation piercing was still tender, even if it was technically healed, and she didn’t want to deal with jumping through the hoops to get properly excused.

She also technically didn’t _have_ to attend that specific play-mating banquet. She has to attend—and participate in—at least one of the damnable things before she’s allowed to graduate, but she’s still got time. Not much, but some. She’s a third-form student now, and as long as she goes to one of the monthly events before the year is up, she can graduate and get the hell away from this place.

“Miss Stilinski.”

Stiles nods, and tries to keep all of those arguments in mind as she’s waved into Headmaster Hale’s office. She stands in front of his desk, hands clasped in front of her, and is quietly thankful that the third-form draped dress is so much less see-through than the first-form tunic. She still wishes she had more of it, though.

Master Peter stares at her for a long moment—long enough that she has to work to stay calm. “I’m not sure how to get through to you,” he admits quietly, and Stiles doesn’t reply, because that’s bait. He stands up from his chair, circling the desk to get uncomfortably close. He doesn’t touch her, but the weight of his gaze feels like a heavy hand on the back of her neck. “You avoid the prep classes for the banquets, and refuse to go, even though they are genuinely intended for your benefit, and you refuse to speak to a member of staff about the reasons behind your absences, or what concerns might be keeping you from attending.”

Stiles swallows, throat clicking, but doesn’t speak. Not yet. Not until he asks an actual question.

Master Peter sighs, and moves in front of her, leaning against his desk with his hands braced behind him. It’s a surprisingly non-threatening posture, and it makes her suspicious. “You know you’ve been sent to me for disciplinary action, yes?”

Stiles nods. She knows. She’s only ever sent to him for discipline, which is odd, because she knows other students have been disciplined by Madam Laura, or Derek, or other school staff, but not her.

“Do you know why?”

“No, sir.”

He sighs, and sits up a little, crossing his arms over his thick chest. “It’s because the others don’t know what to do with you, either. Most of the other students, they break rules to push at boundaries, or because they’re frightened, or for other motivations that are understandable. They also react aversely to things you’ve taken to quite well.”

Heat crawls up her face at that, because she knows he’s talking about the machine—about the time her calves were bound to her thighs and she was cored open on a massive, unknotted cock until she came crying and squirting. He might also be talking about—

Her train of thought is interrupted when Master Peter continues to speak, his eyes tracing over her cheeks and sliding down her flushed throat. “It means we have to get creative with you, which is where I come in.”

He pushes away from his desk to place a hand on her back and guide her forward. She lets him bend her over the desk, assuming she’s in for a paddling, or possibly even a cropping. She startles a little when he moves her dress to the side, baring her butt and thighs, and it’s only the hand he plants between her shoulder blades that keeps her from jerking when she hears the sound of latex snapping into place before he starts rubbing slick, gloved fingers over the pucker of her ass. It’s not long before one of them presses inside, and it’s an unfortunate fact of her training sessions that it takes very little time before a second finger can join the first one, twisting and scissoring to stretch her out.

She grits her teeth and doesn’t rock back against his fingers, because she knows it won’t help. She likes it more than she should, more than she wants to, and hates herself, just a little bit, for being disappointed that she doesn’t have her plug in. It’s after-hours, so she isn’t required to keep it in, but she knows that if she had the thick silicone knot filling her up right now, the fingers twisting in her ass would be enjoyable, satisfying, even, as they pushed against the knot and ground it against her g-spot. As it is, this is nothing more than a desperate tease.

She’s not sure what she expected, but somehow, his fingers sliding free and Master Peter rasping, “Deep breath, princess,” followed by the press of silicone against her loosened rim isn’t it. There’s a long, inexorable push inwards, and she realizes that it’s not a plug, like she first thought—it’s a dildo, and he’s making her take every inch of it up her ass. By the time the triangular base of it is nestled firmly between her cheeks, she feels heavy and stuffed—and also horribly, achingly empty. Her cunt is throbbing, and she’s so wet she’s in actual danger of starting to leak down a thigh, which she thought only happened in unrealistic fanfiction.

The next thing she knows, Master Peter is pulling off the glove and she’s being guided up and off his desk. She doesn’t quite understand until he sits her down in a nearby wooden chair, and snaps the cuffs attached to the arms closed on her wrists. She squirms, sticking wetly to the wooden seat, but he’s already locking her ankles into the matching cuffs on the chair’s legs. The wide, padded belt around her waist keeps her sitting—and the dildo firmly stuffed up inside her.

Stiles shifts her hips, bizarrely more desperate to come, for fingers or a toy in her cunt, and she realizes the tingling sensation isn’t just her own arousal. “You—you put tincture on the chair?!” she half-shrieks.

Master Peter seems unconcerned by her outburst. “I know exactly how stubborn you are, little o. Some encouragement seemed like a good way to keep this from lasting all night.”

She bites back a moan and shifts her weight again, making the silicone inside her feel huge and thick. “What is ‘this’, sir?”

He pulls out a small rolling stool, and sits in front of her, leaning forwards until his elbows are braced on his knees and his fingertips are scant inches from the seat of the chair she’s bound to. “Getting answers,” he murmurs. “The sooner you decide to be honest with me, the sooner you’ll get to come. That’s the deal.”

She wants to hate it, and she does, a little, but she also knows that she won’t win this game— _can’t_ , not with the tincture at play. Without it, she maybe had a slim chance, but she knows the way it makes her desperate, unable to care about anything but the relief of orgasm. “Wh—what do you want to know?”

He hums, a strange look passing over his features. “For starters, why you didn’t attend the latest banquet.”

And that, well. That’s an easy one. “My new piercing,” she pants. “It’s still tender.”

Master Peter tilts his head, staring at her for a long moment. “You do know that you can attend as an observer,” he half-states, half-asks.

And, well, yes, but she’s never trusted that the alphas at the banquet would take ‘no’ for an answer. Given the status quo around _Hales’_ , that doesn’t seem like a big leap to make, but even half-out of her mind with horniness, she knows better than to say that out loud to the Headmaster of the school.

She decides to offer a partial truth. “Didn’t trust them to take ‘no’,” she mutters.

Shock crosses his face. “Well, for starters, most of the students who are there actually do _want_ to be, and aren’t interested in an unwilling partner, but also? That’s what the teacher chaperones are there for.”

She can’t help the way she squirms back—away—as much as she can, given that she’s bound in place. Master Peter catches the movement and stares silently for a long moment. “Are you—Stiles, are you _shy_?” He moves closer, eyes bright as they scan her face. “Is that it? You don’t want to seen and admired as you take an alpha’s knot for the first time?”

She turns her face away and doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t need to. The heat flushing her cheeks says it for her, and of course Master Peter sees it, because how could he not?

“Oh, princess,” he sighs, soft and sweet like he didn’t fill her ass with cock and leave her cunt empty just to torture her. “If you’d spoken to one of the staff, we could have helped—made arrangements.”

“What?” She’s so surprised, it just sort of falls out of her mouth.

But rather than look upset, Master Peter is nodding encouragingly. “There are alcoves, off the banquet hall. Close enough to get help, if you needed, but a little more private. You’re not the only one who prefers that.”

“I—I didn’t know,” Stiles pants, so twitchy and aching to come that she can’t come up with anything more elegant.

At that, his expression darkens. “No, of course not—how could you, when you didn’t ask, or go to any of the prep classes? When you didn’t tell anyone what the problem was? You just stomped your foot and refused, like a naughty child.” He leans in close, one hand sliding up her thigh towards where she’s a slick, sticky mess. “Almost like you were trying to get into trouble.” His voice drops into a silky whisper. “Were you acting out, trying to get my attention, princess?”

His fingertips circle closer, and her mouth is dry, her mind full of fog. She doesn’t think so, wants to say no, but the answer just won’t come. Nothing makes sense. “I don’t know,” she whines.

Master Peter tuts. “Tell you what, little o—you promise me that you’ll attend the next banquet, and I’ll give you what you need.”

She’s whimpering, “Please,” before she realizes it’s a bad idea, but then it’s too late. Thick fingers are sinking inside her cunt, filling up the aching emptiness, and she moans, low and guttural, at the way they push against her g-spot and the silicone cock in her ass.

His fingers rock and push and pull as his thumb rubs delicate circles over her clit and the barbell running through it until her legs are shaking and she’s arching against the restraints as she comes riding Master Peter’s hand. He waits a long moment before sliding his fingers free, wiping them on a handkerchief he pulls from—somewhere. Stiles would wonder why he even has one of those, but he’s unbuckling the cuffs pinning her down and helping her to her feet, and she actually has to focus on not falling on the floor or faceplanting against his chest because her knees are threatening to buckle.

When she’s steadier, Master Peter bends her back over his desk to remove the toy, and she whimpers in relief. He leaves her there as he heads towards the sink to wash up, and Stiles forces herself to stand up and head for the door.

Before she can leave, she hears, “I’ll see you at the next banquet, princess,” and her stomach twists.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not _always_ trash, but you are always welcome in [my dumpster](https://queerfictionwriter.tumblr.com/) (Tumblr).


End file.
